The 3am whispers of love, muddles the shattered symphonies in me.
Piccolos blowing out ashes of fear of my flimsy heart, burning the wires in the flames of distrust,
choking the patience, and harmony crashing my throat down, rising higher and higher.
I feel numb,
sitting next to the window,
counting the stars like the rice grains on a plate of black marble.
This morning, I hold the old broken coffee cup, imagining how bland your extra sugary coffee looked at me.
The late summer afternoon rushes, leaving behind notes of love and buttermilk.
The brownies of the full moon night taste like your voice saying ‘this moonlight is an invisible string filling the thousands kilometer between us’ and I kept wondering, if you too, deep inside somewhere in your soul, feel me.
I sigh, to the infinite distance accompanied by the days,
and watched them turning into years.
You won’t be my sunrise to the sunset anymore.
I still find you, hiding behind those pale blue curtains, overhearing the chirping,
still burning my pancakes,
still taunting me for leaving late,
still shouting for wearing your favorite shirt,
still reading me to sleep, caressing my messy hair.
You faded away, in a lightning speed,
leaving behind pieces of you,
I repeatedly ask myself,
deep and shallow questions
will I ever find your face in random people on my walks back home?
Numbers won’t fit into my poetry.
I feel numb.
My poetry fades in the smoke of my vulnerable soul.
gulping down my words and solitude with pegs of yearning,
that would last forever. -Muskan, couldn’t think of a perfect caption poetry.